Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
JULIET
The steam from the shower lingers in the bathroom, clouding the mirror as I stand in front of it wrapped in a plush towel.
Droplets of water trace lazy paths down my collarbone.
The air is scented with the eucalyptus body wash I'd lathered on, hoping the invigorating aroma would clear my head, but it hasn't.
My mind is a tangled mess, replaying last night in a loop of shame and guilt.
I get ready methodically, while I try to figure out how to resolve this overwhelming attraction to Blake.
It’s become a throbbing headache behind my eyes.
I don’t know why or how, but every time he's near, my body betrays me.
Heat radiates out of me, making my skin flush, and my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
I can't let it escalate. It's not just the job. And it’s not just Carolyn telling me that she’s doing all this because she wants her family back at the end of my impersonation.
It's me—I'm terrified the attachment is growing roots, roots that are going in deeper than I can dig them out again. It’s going to make it too painful to walk away in just over two months without my heart shattering.
I slip into a simple white linen shift dress and pair it with flat espadrilles.
I twist my damp hair into a loose bun and secure it with a claw clip.
Then I call Franklin and tell him to meet me downstairs.
Grabbing my purse, I stuff both my phones inside and head downstairs.
The staff move with hushed efficiency in the hallway.
The scent of fresh coffee wafts from the kitchen as I slip out to the waiting Bentley.
Franklin nods politely as he opens the door.
Oasis Day is an exclusive, members only spa, tucked away in the Hudson Valley.
It has a stone facade, manicured gardens, and the entrance is lined with lavender bushes that release their calming scent as I walk up.
Emma is already waiting in the lobby, her wild curls tied back in a ponytail, wearing yoga pants and a tank top.
Her face lights up when she sees me. We hug tightly, her arms wrapping around me with that familiar squeeze that helps calm me and tells me everything will be okay.
"It's so good to see you and be able to hug you properly again," she says with a grin.
Her green eyes sparkle as she holds me at arm's length and gives me a quick once-over.
"You look... different. Glowy, but super stressed. Alright, let's melt all that nasty tension away. Start spilling, what’s going on?”
The tension in my shoulders eases just a fraction as we check in. The real Carolyn must come here a lot because the receptionist calls me by name. She hands us fluffy robes and slippers, and we make our way to the changing rooms with their teak benches and lockers stocked with organic lotions.
We change quickly, giggling like old times as we tie our thick robes.
Emma complains about how hers makes her look like a walking marshmallow.
It's easy with her, always has been. We've been best friends since high school, sharing everything from bad dates to career crises, and right now, I need that no-judgment zone more than ever.
We head to our first treatment—a mud bath in a private suite.
The room is dimly lit with flickering candles that release a fig scent.
Not going to lie, it’s deliciously warm and inviting.
The twin tubs are filled with mineral-rich clay, and they steam gently under soft recessed lights.
We sink in, side by side, and the mud envelopes me like a warm embrace.
“Oh, this is the life,” Emma murmurs as the thick and silky mud rises up her skin. “Come on, baby, draw out every last impurity in my skin.”
I laugh and lean back against the tub's edge. The heat seeps into my muscles, loosening the knots from last night's turmoil.
Emma sighs contentedly beside me, her eyes closing for a moment before she turns her head. "So. Tell me what's going on? You sounded off on the phone. Is it the stress of pretending? Or... something else?"
I explain it all to her, about the development with Blake, the words spilling out of me in a rush.
The privacy of the suite, a cocoon of tiled walls and soft instrumental music piping in from hidden speakers, makes it feel safe to unburden.
Obviously, I leave out some of the raw details, like how fabulously high-octane it felt when he went down on me, but not much.
Emma's my best friend, the one who's heard all my secrets over late-night wine sessions.
My cheeks heat under the mud mask as I skim through the experience, focusing on the intensity.
"It was incredible, but terrifying. The way he kissed me was like he owned me."
Emma's eyes widen, but she nods. “Oh wow. But did you... You know, go all the way?"
"No," I admit, sinking deeper into the mud, the warmth cradling me.
"But the way we're going, it's only a matter of time before I give in and go all in with him. But I know I cannot do that, right? And it’s not even because of Carolyn.
She'll kill me if she knew, but mostly because I'll get too attached.
I'm already so attracted to him. I feel myself getting too intensely involved. My heart is getting involved, you know? Any steps further, and I'll be in real trouble. I don’t want to have feelings for him. This is supposed to be temporary, a job, not... this. Em, what if I fall for him? For real? He's married to her, not me. I'm just the stand-in. Believe me, she’s not giving him up. I’m not stupid. She’s not gone to all this trouble for nothing. She wants to win him back."
The words hang above the mud, heavy with my fear.
I feel a burning sensation inside my chest. It’s worrying, and I hate to think it might be true, but it feels as if I’m already half in love with Blake.
I actually feel pain at the thought of walking away from him.
My fingers trace patterns in the clay as I wait for Emma’s response.
The tranquility broken only by the soft drip of a nearby fountain.
Emma's quiet for a beat, stirring the mud thoughtfully, her face serious but kind—the way she always gets when I'm spiraling.
"Okay, I get it. You’re scared you’ll get hurt.
I understand, Jules. Really, I do," she says, reaching over to squeeze my hand through the mud.
"You've never been one for casual stuff; you're all heart.
I know you've never had a fling before, you’re all about the real thing, but…
think about it. There was nothing between the real Carolyn and Blake until you came along.
“For whatever reason, you’ve lit a fire under his ass.
So, if she wants him back, then she shouldn’t be angry with you; she should be fucking grateful to you.
You’ve done all the hard work for her. She just has to swan in and reap the benefits.
As for you breaking your heart. So what if you break your heart?
That’s what hearts are for. But the main thing is the experience.
You’ve never felt like this about anyone.
It’s special. So you should make the most of this experience in every way.
Why don’t you indulge? It’s just for less than three months, and then you return to your normal life. No harm, no foul."
Her voice turns a bit playful to lighten the mood, like she always does when I'm overthinking. "Besides, if you keep fighting it, you’ll risk getting distracted, slipping up, making a mistake and blowing your cover. If I were you, I’d go for it.
You know my motto, if life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Life has given you peaches and cherries, and you’re complaining.
Come on, Jules. You fancy him like mad, take a bite.
Heck, take a slice, or gorge as much as you possibly can, while you can.
When you really think about it, you’ve got nothing to lose after all.
I think you should live a little, babe. You've earned it after all the crap you've been through. "
Her words sink in, stirring a mix of temptation and terror. The mud bath's warmth lulls me as I mull it over. The fig candles flicker lazily, while my heart pounds with the possibility of falling into the abyss called Blake Bessant.
"But what if I don't walk away unscathed? What if it messes me up for good?"
Emma shrugs, her grin turning mischievous. "Then you'll call me, and we'll eat ice cream and I’ll trash-talk him until you have no choice but to get over him. That's what best friends are for. Seriously, Jules, you've got this. Just enjoy the ride… literally.”
We both laugh then, and it eases the weight in my chest a little. She's always been my voice of reason, the one who pushes me out of my comfort zone, and as we soak in our mud bath and just chat as we have always done, I feel a shift.
Maybe indulging isn't the end of the world.
Maybe it's just what I need.